Yesterday was the third Valentine’s Day my girlfriend and I have celebrated together. Except, yet again, we weren’t together. If Canadian Immigration had let me stay longer, it would have been our first one in proximity, but now it’s going to have to wait until next year, when I’m spending a 12 month working holiday there.

Many think Valentine’s Day is a cynical holiday, and to be honest, Jessica’s more cynical than most about commercialisation; she doesn’t care for Christmas for that reason. But when I first met her, and I was reading back-entries in her blog (there’s a fine line between sweet and e-stalker), I learned that, despite herself, Valentine’s Days caused her a lot of pain. To her then, although she knew it was a soulless profit-driven construct, the day was a symbol of her lonliness, and though the date itself didn’t matter, she longed for a time when she would matter enough to somebody for them to give her a thoughtful Valentine. February 2008 was the first gift-giving occasion in our relationship, and I sent her a cuddly Rémy from Ratatouille, symbolising the forum thread where we met, and a homemade card. She later told me that, even though she held off on saying it until she met me in person some months later, that day was the moment she fell in love with me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Jessica. It was yesterday, but that doesn’t matter. You matter, to me. I love you, and I wish I could’ve been with you yesterday, today, and every day.